obscura magazine, june 2016
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LA VIVENCIAThe children of Buena Vista
SOUTH BAY SOUNDSDe Anza musicians and the sounds of San Jose
DREAM DARINGLY, EXECUTE FEARLESSLYA thriving art collective tucked away in San Jose’s downtown.
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spring / june 2016
D E A N Z A C O L L E G E
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EDITOR-IN-CHIEF/ART DIRECTORAdrian Discipulo
MANAGING EDITORKady Le
BUSINESS MANAGERGreg Schrader
ASSISTANT GRAPHIC DESIGNERDominic Nohai
FACULTY ADVISORCecilia Deck(408) [email protected]
OBSCURA
FRONT COVER PHOTO // MICHELLE BOUNKOUSOHN
Obscura magazine is student produced publication and a project of La Voz News, the voice of the college. Obscura is funded by La Voz News and the De Anza Associated Student Body and printed by Folger Graphics, Hayward CA.
De Anza College, Cupertino21250 Stevens Creek BoulevardCupertino, CA 95014
© 2016 Obscura Magazine. All rights reserved. No part of Obscura may be reproduced without permission.
JUNE 2016
CAMPUS
CONTENTS
art
ESSAY
MUSIC
FOOD
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Interview: English instructor Alex Giardino
Importance of theatre arts on campus
Dream Daringly, Execute Fearlessly studio
Dadaism: Now. More than ever.
Art as a second language
La Vivencia: The children of Buena Vista
South Bay Sounds: De Anza musicians
Llama Eats local eats: Swaad Indian Cuisine
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ARTWORK EDGAR GODINEZ
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Alena Naiden is a Russian novel: lacks focus, describes several things simultaneously and doesn’t know where to stop.
Michelle Bounkousohn is a 3rd year anthropology and political science major. In her community organizing work, she tries to emphasize the power of art and individual narratives in shaping social change.
Dominic Nohai is in their first year at De Anza Community College and has no idea what they want to do. In their free time Dominic plays drums and makes objectively bad jokes on Twitter. Their contributions to Obscura are in the form of article editing
and graphic consulting. Dominic is currently trapped inside Chromatic Coffee and cannot escape. Send lawyers, puns, and money.
Edgar godinez is a philosophy major that is currently drinking an IPA and hasn’t made a zine in 3 years.
Juliana Martinez is a stuck up, half-witted, scruffy looking nerf herder.
Kady Le has covered De Anza’s multifaceted film community for
Dispatch. Her work was featured by Cinequest and Content Magazine. She will attend UCLA film school this fall. Her interests include comics and impressing people with her huge appetite.
Adrian Discipulo is a journalism and graphic design major who’s been at De Anza too long. Adrian has always wanted to hone in the skills of a team of creative people to produce a body of work since freshman year of high school, and can’t thank his staff, Cecilia Deck and the journalism staff enough for their support and contributions to Obscura mag and helping that vision become a reality. He also apologizes to any of them that have had to attempt to talk to him when he’s sleepy.
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Andrew Kaila feels so much better than he did yesterday though he is no longer Superman, unfortunately. Have you forgotten him yet?
Jasmin Remram is a 19 year old child that likes coffee and existentialism way too much. She’s lived in more places than she
knows what to do with. When she’s not thinking about jumping into the void, she writes articles for obscure art magazines.
Creo Noveno is a part-time crafter, full-time cat mom. She occasionally writes.
Imran Najam is a third-year SJSU journalism student. His lifelong passion and involvement in journalism lead him to be the first copyeditor of Channel Fireball, and founding writer of Llama Eats, an ongoing food column at the Daily Spartan.
Greg’s a rampantly pretentious narcissist with a fondness for dumb obscure music, British Existentialists, and the oxford comma. Greg’s an award winning playwright, plays eight instruments, writes for an underground community college magazine about random bullsh*t, and pretends he’s cool. Greg has a penchant for incoherent screaming as various deadlines approach.
Paul Ledesma is a mid-career, life-long learner who came back to De Anza after a thirty-
year hiatus to take advantage of the free VTA Transit Pass and ended up staying to improve his professional skills. As a writer for Obscura, La Voz and Dispatch, Paul has enjoyed the past year, working with his fellow student writers and editors.
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A L E XG I A R D I N OPart English instructor, part karate teacher, full time story teller
WRITTEN BY PHOTOS BY ALENA NAIDEN ADRIAN DISCIPULO
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Stay concentrated, breathe deeply. Let your energy flow into your movements. One is a front
kick, two is a back kick and on three, change your legs.
“Let’s do it one more time, with good black belt attitude!” she exclaims, with an open smile never completely disappearing from her face.
Karate is not a hobby one would expect a writer to have, and De Anza College English instructor Alex Giardino said she never imagined herself being a fighter.
“You think, ‘No, I can’t do that; it’s like fighting and chopping people,’’’ Giardino said.
“But karate is really awesome, for women especially. It’s empowering, and it makes me feel like I have a good challenge in my life.”
Giardino is teaching karate to kids now and getting her black belt next year.
Leaving the dojo, Giardino changes into her pastel-colored dress and goes back to her main project — a new children’s book.
“Stories come to me,” she said, “and they happen to be in a form of a picture book.”
Giardino wasn’t always a fiction writer, but always a storyteller. She invented a term “la pabladora” for herself that means “a worder.”
Among her projects are a translation of the book “My Life with Pablo Neruda,” the short story “La Scarlatina”
and various magazine articles and essays.
But she said that all of it, from the journalism through the translation into fiction, has been about someone real.
“I always have a desire to tell people’s stories, even when I have to fictionalize to get to some truth.”
Giardino became a translator after moving to Central America in 1996. She lived in Chile and Mexico, and travelled to countries such as Uruguay and Argentina.
Giardino was 29 at the time, “already well into adulthood,” but after living there for five years, learning a new language and immersing herself into the new culture, she said she became another person.
“Allow yourself to be in the sea of the place that you are in, without any air around you,” she said, “and then you realize, ‘I’m connected to all of this, I’m different from this, but I’m also a part of it.”
Giardino said people can perceive the world as stones on the sea floor, wet on the surface, but dry and isolated inside. To be a sponge that takes it all in is another choice, and for Giardino, this is the only way to be alive.
“You are always a part of where you are,” she said.
Adjusting to a new way of thinking is never an easy process, and Giardino said she needed to be careful to stay culturally sensitive. For example,
LA P
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Photo courtesty of Alex Giardino
Photo courtesty of Alex Giardino
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“I always have a desire to tell people’s stories, even when I have
to fictionalize to get to some truth.”Giardino said she checked herself
when talking to her friends from Chile who suffered through dictatorship and preferred not to talk about politics.
“I was very naive and like, ‘Oh, let’s talk about Pinochet,’ and they were like, ‘Let’s not,’’’ Giardino said. “I had a lot of things to learn about letting some things lie.”
Machismo, racism and sexism in Latin American countries were other aspects of the culture Giardino named as hard for her to adjust to, but “swimming” in the place requires a person to face everything openly, she said.
“Scuba diving seems like a metaphor for it,” Giardino said. “You just go around (thinking), ‘Wow, look at that, that is really odd and beautiful’ or ‘Wow, this is scary, but here it is.’”
Living in another country also allowed Giardino to see the United States with the new eyes, she said, and to take it “as an equal part of the world as any other.”
“When you are here, you think it is everything, and it’s totally not,” she said. “The United States is not the center, not the most important, not the most powerful and definitely not the most interesting.”
Giardino said she came back tothe United States for publishing reasons. Currently, she writes only for children and is in love with her audience of 5-years-olds.
“They are really fun, sort of the best,” she said.
Magic is another aspect of writing for children that she said fascinates her.
“You get to enter into a space that is also kind of fantastical,” she said. “I’m attracted to the fact that anything is possible.”
Giardino’s current project is a Spanish translation of a story centered on a girl who loves baseball.
“It totally disrupts the idea that baseball is for boys,” Giardino said, addressing the story’s possible reception in Latin American countries. “Any child who reads it potentially has a shift of consciousness: ‘Oh yeah, girl plays baseball, of course.’”
Giardino said she always hopes to affect her readers with her writing.
“If you open yourself to a story, you will be changed by it.”
Photo courtesty of Alex Giardino
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ARTI
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WRI
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TUCKED INSIDE ONE OF THE MANY
CAVERNOUS, SAWDUST-FILLED
WAREHOUSES THAT LINE
SAN JOSE’S INDUSTRIAL SOUTH FIFTH STREET IS A SMALL ART OASIS.
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A painted yellow brick road paves the way to the classroom-sized Dream
Daringly, Execute Fearlessly (DDEF) studio, the sight of which is nothing short of Oz itself: repurposed lanterns hang from heavy chains off the ceilings; a pink and blue mushroom from Cirque du Soleil is planted on a high shelf only an acrobat could reach; a tall, wide handbuilt table meant for open-space working is positioned at the center of the room, feeling like the dinner table in a family home.
It’s hard to believe that this fully-developed artist sanctuary started off as nothing more than barren cement when the group first moved to Fifth Street in January 2016 .
The DDEF collective was yet another casualty in the recent spate of artist displacement in the Bay Area. A 2015 study by the San Francisco Arts Commission found that around 26% of artists surveyed were currently facing workspace displacement, with another 70% citing a rent increase or building conversion for their inability to renew their lease.
Resident artist Patrick Hofmeister explained that property owners leased out the Cannery Park space to DDEF with the caveat that the area would soon be sold to build storage facilities as part of San Jose’s Japantown redevelopment project.
The collective and other creators surrounding Taylor Street received a three month notice to relocate before the Hanover Company began their construction in the area.
D R E A M
D A R I N G L Y
E X E C U T E
F E A R L E S S L Y
“It’s all about profit - I’m not mad about it, I get it on that scale,” Hofmeister said. “But nobody fought for us. As artists, we didn’t know we could even fight for that in the first place, you know? So there was kind of this too little, too late kinda thing.”
DDEF’s misfortune turned out to be part of a seemingly synchronistic turn of events, however. April Gee, a friend of the collective, heard about the group’s displacement and shortly after spoke to Nick James, a fellow artist who worked at a local millwork looking into new plans for its open warehouse space.
“It was just the perfect moment - right when (DDEF) needed space, he said he wanted to devote studio space for artists,” Gee said.
The group ended up subleasing a bare 52 by 17 ft corner in the Millwork’s Warehouse, which contained only two walls and was 700 square feet smaller
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patrick hofmeister
freddie vega
mikeborja
miguel machuca
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“It’s all about profit - I’m not mad about it, I get it on that scale, but nobody fought for us. As artists, we didn’t know we could even fight for that in the first place.”
than their previous space.Hofmeister explained the tribulation of
gaining a new space was then replaced by the challenge of building a studio from scratch. The artists barely had building experience but were equipped with a plethora of YouTube woodwork tutorials.
“What we had was literally an empty lot. None of those walls existed. It was just
pillars, concrete,” said Hofmeister. “I was the one telling these guys that it could be done so it was my responsibility to even get this place drawn up in the first place.”
Mike Borja, another artist in the collective, stated that while Hofmeister’s “gung ho-ness” kept the collectivists’ morale high, it was really widespread community support that helped DDEF fully adjust to their new location.
“The other potion that’s in the magic pot of creativity is from our community of artists, friends, and family, and the people we randomly meet,” Borja said. “We get random support that would help us in any way.”
Fellow artists and supporters of the group contributed in various ways, from helping construct the studio’s barnyard doors, to figuring out electrical wiring for the space, down to just pooling money to help the group buy plywood and various materials needed to construct their new home.
In just two months, the group has managed to fashion a place that emanates warmth and a widely-
embracing camaraderie. “We’re like the Ninja Turtles,” Borja
said, referencing a Batman and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle crossover comic that Hofmeister brought to the studio. “And Paulie’s Batman.”
“Nope! I’m afraid not!” said Hofmeister, despite his love for Batman, which is apparent by the tin Batman lunchboxes and the original cereal box promoting the 1989 adaption (with cereal still inside) adorning his corner of the studio.
In the process of creating a new home on 5th Street, the collective has become a family in its own right -- the five artists bicker like brothers, playfully bantering over which Ninja Turtle they most identify as.
“Patrick’s Master Splinter, man,” DDEF artist Miguel Machuca said with a laugh. “Someone has to be Master Splinter, you know what I mean?”
For all the struggles the collective has faced, they say that the experience as a whole has provided them not only with a newfound appreciation for their space and community, but also a lifelong connection with their fellow studiomates.
“I don’t think anybody that you meet in your life is by accident. I think my soul and their souls are forged in the same star - who knows?” DDEF musician Paulie Dommert said. “We share certain philosophies and we’re all different too. But that’s what makes it a good mix - you become a little community, and we’ve forged a brotherhood.”
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Theatre?
T O H A V E
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There isn’t anything quite like the glare of a hot selecon light blinding your eyes as you step out in front of a crowd for the first time, caked in makeup and desperately wishing you rehearsed a few more times backstage. And there isn’t anything like the roar of the crowd after the last bow.
These experiences aren’t part of the De Anza College experience. Yes, there are a small selection of classes offered for the aspiring actor, but taking a class isn’t the same as putting on a show. That leaves a gaping hole on campus, not just for aspiring actors but all students who are missing the opportunity to see student-led theatre.
There are no independent shows advertised across campus - no Fiddler on the Roof or Dr. Faustus to be found.
The Performing Arts Center isn’t fulfilling its purpose as a center for student performing arts. Full length theatre productions aren’t held by students unless a sizeable group independently chooses to form a full theatre troupe, rent out the building and produce, direct and act in a play - an event that rarely happens.
Students should be able to act in on-campus plays, engage in a robust theatre community and gain the critical insights into performance and behavior that are so often found on stage. Research has shown that participation in drama improves student outcomes, increases reading comprehension, improves attendance and, most importantly, helps give students the
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confidence and skills to be part of public life. According to the American Alliance for Theatre Education, 93 percent of Americans believe that drama should be part of a well rounded education - yet little is to be found at De Anza.
Currently, students interested in performing are recommended to pursue their interests at Foothill College. According to De Anza theatre arts professor Elizabeth Stimson, between the Appreciation of Theatre and Acting classes at the college there are about 100 students De Anza students engaged in theatre.
If even a tenth of those students were interested in producing shows, a production would be well within their grasp. There’s no reason they shouldn’t perform at one college over another when both have facilities capable of use.
Stimson recommended that students interested in a strong theatre community ought to create a drama or improv club, but is a club enough without performances to accompany them?
“I have the pleasure every quarter of watching the De Anza theatre students grow not only in the art form but as a community supporting one another as well,” Stimson said.
It’s time to truly let this community engage with their craft, and perform for the student body.
WRITTEN BY GREG SCHRADER PHOTOS BY JULIANA MARTINEZ
THE NEED FOR THEATRE ON EVERY CAMPUS
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The corrugated cardboard boxes are arranged on the gallery wall. They’re brown shipping containers with bright red labels,
“Rosalie Brand” and “Red Cheek.”In 1971, an artist named Robert Rauschenberg
took these old cardboard crates and arranged them in what seemed to be randomness to create “Rosalie/Red Cheek/Temporary Letter/Stock.”
Today, this sculpture is considered to be a masterpiece of Process Art and is part of the permanent collection at the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art (SFMOMA) which reopened this month after a three years of renovation.
Rauschenberg often worked with found objects – the detritus of the post-war industry and consumerism. But, his art was not just an artifact commenting on the modern times. It was a nuanced work, where the process of creating was just as important as the final product.
For Rauschenberg, the art object — arranged cardboard boxes — and the creative ideas being expressed by it — social commentary, aesthetics, humor — were two separate elements that, when combined, created a complete artistic expression.
This notion of separating “the object” from “the idea” was revolutionary in 1917, when Marcel Duchamp declared a mass produced porcelain urinal that he signed to be art.
Duchamp’s sculpture, titled “Fountain,” was rejected for an exhibition by a jury of art experts.
But the work and the idea behind it would resonate for the next century and would become a profound influence on the world of art.
In the gallery spaces at SFMOMA one can see how Duchamp’s idea has permeated modern art.
RE-IMAGINING THE EXPECTATIONS OF ART
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STORY & PHOTS BY PAUL LEDESMA
the same time.Dada artist and the founder
of Cabaret Voltaire, Hugo Ball, performed “tone poetry,” which consisted of incoherent gibberish. One of Ball’s tone poems would later become the lyrics for the Talking Heads song, “I Zimbra” in 1979.
“A line of poetry is a chance to get rid of all the filth that clings to this accursed language,” declared Ball two weeks after that horrible day at the Battle of the Somme.
“Mockery and ridicule was all that Dada had,” observed Dada expert and Steinbeck Fellow Gary Singh. Dadaism sought to reject the unchecked authority and narrow-minded traditions that led to a world war.
“For us, art is not an end in itself ... but it is an opportunity for the true perception and criticism of the times we live in,” wrote Ball.
Within months, Dadaism had started to spread to Berlin, Paris, and New York — where Duchamp was living. One hundred years later, the reverberations of Duchamp, Ball and the other Dadaists continues.
Robert Rauschenberg, Jackson Pollock, Roy Lichtenstein and Salvador Dali are just a few who owe a debt to Dada. Today, elements of Dada can also seen in the work of Cindy Sherman, the late Bruce Conner and Sherrie Levine.
“But it wasn’t exactly linear,” says Singh, “It wasn’t like this happened
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The “Fountain” is considered prescient of the mid-20th century work of Rauschenberg, Jasper Johns, Andy Warhol, and other contemporaries. For them, Duchamp represented a significant challenge to the status quo.
Duchamp’s called his work “ready-mades” and were made from common industrial products like urinals, bicycle wheels, and flat irons. The artist may have slightly embellished them with a signature or an added item drawn or glued on.
But, it was his creative decision to use them in the first place, and by declaring their artistic value, he legitimized them as art.
The “readymades” were part of an international artistic movement called Dada. Dadaist artists rejected all traditional views of art. For them, aesthetic decisions were often left to chance and the artwork itself was often made of found objects like newspapers, magazines, industrial parts, and, famously, pipes.
The decision to use found objects was often born out of necessity. During this time, Europe was engulfed in the First World War. The war had caused shortages in traditional art supplies like paint and canvass.
Dada rose out of the violent cauldron of World War I and found its first home in one of the few neutral countries in Europe — Switzerland. Artists opposed to the war ended up in Zurich, in a rundown nightclub called the Cabaret Voltaire.
In 1916, a year before Duchamp produced the “Fountain,” European artists and poets began looking for new forms of expression that could speak to the profound horror of modern warfare.
Europe was engorged with violent bloodshed. Newly invented mechanized war machines of the industrial age destroyed life on an unprecedented scale. No one had seen anything like it before. In one day, July 1, 1916, 35,000 soldiers were killed and another 50,000 were wounded at the Battle of the Somme in northern France.
But, politicians continued to beat the war drum. The public was told that it was their patriotic duty to go to war – to defend their homeland. For the Dada artists and poets, words no longer had value.
In retaliation, Dadaist poets began to mock language, using words in new ways, like simultaneous poetry, wherein multiple poems — often in different languages — were read at
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first, this happened secondand so on. It was more accidental –
an eruption of creativity.”For Dada, the war was just a
symptom of how the modern technological age was robbing people of their humanity. The Dadaists’ search for new language and art was their way of reclaiming that which makes us human. This challenge to our humanity continues to this day.
In the modern age, technology has been responsible for greater productivity and higher standards of living. But, its also contributed to climate change, income inequality, increasingly sedentary lives, and the ever greater capacity for human destruction in times of war.
As was the case a century ago, these unintended negative consequences are pathologies that erode our well being.
“Dada is more relevant now than ever. The First World War created a state of hopelessness in Europe. There’s that same sense of despair in a lot of people today,” Singh said, “That explains the Donald Trump phenomena.”
Duchamp’s “Fountain” is on prominent display at SFMOMA. When you see it, consider what a new manifesto might say.
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LA VIVENCIA THE CHILDREN OF BUENA VISTA
STORY & PHOTOS BY MICHELLE BOUNKOUSOHN
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You can tell her. She’s cool... and she’s an adult,” Fabi
mumbled, nervously chewing on the cap of her water bottle. I looked around at the girls curiously before I realized they were talking about me. They thought I was an adult.
I met Fabi and the children of the Buena Vista Migrant Camp during my second summer at De Anza College, when I was entrusted with photographing the children for a LEAD class’s oral history project. I felt overwhelmed with the task of portraying these children and their stories authentically, as they inspired me with the raw humanity and resilience they possessed at their young age.
The bracero program that provided their parents the economic opportunity to work in the United States came with the burden of forcing the families to relocate at least twice a year. In these children and their struggles to find stability, I was reminded of my own childhood, and the helplessness I felt as a child with an unstable home life. I felt determined to produce an empowering visual ethnography to honor their vivencia, their experience.
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Scott Hallgren, the director of the mentorship program at Buena Vista, I was warned that the children often grow attached to those in their lives, and that I should be careful of betraying their trust. I was unsure of my own personal capacity to be the mentor they deserved, and tried to remain at a distance in my work as a photojournalist. I still tried to remain open and supportive to the children and their needs, and with every weekend I spent at Buena Vista, I recognized the sense of stability and purpose I was yearning for.
I remember the first time Buena Vista felt like home. The kids invited me on a walk with them to a nearby lake, and we spent the next few hours unpacking the gossip and drama plaguing their preteen lives. Lindsay started to mention that one of the boys in the camp had been bullying her, when her friend interrupted her and nodded in my direction. I was preparing to tell them that I respected their need to remain guarded, when Fabi cut in and let them know they could trust me.
I later shared that poignant moment with Scott as we were packing up for the day, and one of the girls tugged on my shirt to wish us goodbye.
She seemed genuinely happy and surprised to see that I was still wearing the silver friendship necklace she had given me. I felt a warm numbness in my heart as she hugged me goodbye.
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I cried the whole way home.
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In my quest to authentically capture the stories of the children of Buena Vista, I needed to connect to them, needed to understand their needs and goals. I loved the children of Buena Vista because they loved me, and because their love gave me confidence in my capacities to advocate for them.
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V
The South Bay is consistently associated with Apple, Google and the technology takeover as a whole. Art, especially music,
is a medium that’s always considered to belong to the Peninsula and East Bay, and wrongly so. Unlike San Francisco, the South Bay is vast. It is the quiet capital of the entire Bay while being filled with everything simultaneously. And while they’ve been doing so quietly, musicians of all genres linger on every corner. South Bay residents are taking their home and turning it into a music haven that can no longer be overlooked. De Anza College is where many musicians in the area honed in on their passion for music and made it into something more. Music groups like BAMN (By Any Media Necessary) Squad and Four Elements consist of many alumni. Rather than move to Los Angeles to get their names out there, they chose to give it a shot in San Jose because of the sense of unity that’s found here.
Andrew Bigs, 25, a former De Anza student, noted how this area is overlooked, “[San Jose] is the biggest city in the Bay, yet it’s looked at like a second case”. BAMN squad has gone on to do a four show tour, Bigs has been apart of the
Vans Warp Tour, but he still chooses to remain here despite gaining recognition. “My roots are so deep here, my heart, my family is here”, he says. And while he’s passionate about music, the area remains a staple to his success.
Marlo Custodio, former De Anza student and DASB president, began Four Elements in 2006 when he attending Evergreen High School. Since then, it’s expanded tremendously, his brother OJ Custodio brought it to De Anza in 2008 and even to Cal Poly Pomona when he transferred. The group has made ground in the area, and hosted That’s Dope!, a music function at De Anza that went on until 2 in the morning, a rare event to be held at a community college, alongside BAMN Squad, other local musicians and MC’s.
Music might have started out as a passion for members of these groups, but it’s something they’re taking very seriously now. Marlo has founded a production company, and members of Four Elements quit their jobs seven months ago to pursue this full time.
Everyone is now committed to making music, all of the time, and in the South Bay. “San Jose is overlooked because of the mystique of Silicon
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S O U N D SWRITTEN BY PHOTOS BY JASMIN REMRAM ADRIAN DISCIPULO
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ANDREW BIggs
“[SAN JOSE] IS THE BIGGEST CITY IN THE BAY, YET IT’S LOOKED AT LIKE A SECOND CASE... MY ROOTS ARE SO DEEP HERE, MY HEART, MY FAMILY IS HERE”
BAMN Squad : Andrew Bigs : Kwesi Young :
Paul Valdez :
bamnsquad.com/soundcloud.com/heisandrewbigssoundcloud.com/kwesiyoungsoundcloud.com/marbleroom
THE SOUTH BAY HOUSES ALL KINDS OF MUSICIANS
THAT BELONG TO ALL DIFFERENT GENRES. PAUL
VALDEZ, 22, SOFTWARE ENGINEERING MAJOR, HAS BEEN PRODUCING
ELECTRONIC MUSIC AND SONGWRITING SINCE
HIS SOPHOMORE YEAR OF HIGH SCHOOL. AN
INDEPENDENT MUSICIAN, HE HAS DECIDED TO TAKE HIS PASSION
SERIOUSLY AFTER HIS FIRST RELEASE THROUGH #INTERNETGHETTO, A SUB LABEL OF HYPERBOLOID
RECORDS.
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Valley”, Marlo says, but he’s passionate about the craft and the collective, “we’re doing this for a passion. We don’t want to go to New York, we want to stay here, we have this bond with our city and community”.
Much of the music scene has quietly been in the area for a while, but the style is forever evolving. Kwesi Young, 27, a De Anza student, producer, and member of both Four Elements and BAMN Squad, affirms that there’s even a new sound that’s appearing around the area: South Bay Swing. Things are getting loud, and they’re getting loud fast.
“It’s a new Bay Area style of music, trap and hi fi with a lot of hip hop”, but a lot of it has yet to go public. “It’s producer heavy, artists are learning how to make their own beats”. The music, along with the ability to get out there, is definitely changing as artists choose to stay here, “it wasn’t always like this, but it’s starting to be more open for everyone; it’s pretty connected”.
The South Bay houses all kinds of musicians that belong to all different genres. Paul Valdez, 22, Software Engineering major, has been producing electronic music and songwriting since his sophomore year of high school. An independent musician, he has decided to take his passion seriously after his first release through #internetghetto, a sub label of Hyperboloid Records.
He admits that it’s a bit difficult to establish himself given the location, “I feel like for my genre (electronic music), it kind of is, but I’m not really
KWESI YOUNG
worried about it because I go to a lot of shows and hand my mixtape out to try and get my name out there”. And while he’s had more luck in San Francisco getting established, he’s set on the Bay Area rather than down south, “it’s close to home, there’s a lot of potential”.
San Jose native and producer Giraffage has been a huge influence for Valdez, who now lives in San Francisco. Valdez intends to get his name out there, and is currently working on a collaboration with Chicago based producer Sputnik. Valdez is currently a lone wolf in the electronic music scene here, but he’s trying to find his style, “once I establish my style, I’d want to release a nice little package of songs that represents me”. For now, he’s been releasing music under the alias ‘Marble Room’.
The area is filled with passionate and hungry musicians that want to make it big. The South Bay is a place its residents are strongly connected to, a place that is thought to have both potential and a collective unlike any other, which is why many refuse to leave. Artists are putting the area on the map as a growing music scene, a scene members are trying to turn into, as Marlo Custodio puts it, “a goddamn livelihood”.
THE SOUTH BAY HOUSES ALL KINDS OF MUSICIANS
THAT BELONG TO ALL DIFFERENT GENRES. PAUL
VALDEZ, 22, SOFTWARE ENGINEERING MAJOR, HAS BEEN PRODUCING
ELECTRONIC MUSIC AND SONGWRITING SINCE
HIS SOPHOMORE YEAR OF HIGH SCHOOL. AN
INDEPENDENT MUSICIAN, HE HAS DECIDED TO TAKE HIS PASSION
SERIOUSLY AFTER HIS FIRST RELEASE THROUGH #INTERNETGHETTO, A SUB LABEL OF HYPERBOLOID
RECORDS.
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Paul valdez
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I’ve always wanted to be a regular at a coffee shop
or restaurant. If you frequent a location enough, you know all the
servers by name, you shake hands with the manager
often and the chefs serve you special dishes. You’re a
part of a beautiful relationship: Patron and provider.Swaad Indian Cuisine provides exactly
that environment.Owners and couple Amit and Padam Argarwal settled in Luna Park and opened the store about two years ago, after scouring Berkeley for a suitable venue. They wanted their restaurant to be comfortable and classy.“Fine dining. That’s what we wanted,” Amit Agarwal
said. “No one else has white table cloth.” The restaurant looks modest with a small garden
and patio area on the corner of 13th and Empire, but
don’t let this deter you from entering.Upon arrival, you are greeted by cordial staff. The
ambiance is set by dim lighting, snug seating and Bollywood hits.Its menu consists of Punjabi-style cooking hits and all the basics are covered. Starters include pakoras (batter-fried spinach) and samosas (baked
dumplings); aloo gobi (potato and cauliflower) and paneer masala (curried cheese cubes) are under the
vegetarian section; and chicken and lamb are plated
as vindaloo “with aloo” (with potato), or tikka masala
(curry made with yogurt and spice marinade).“We make it fresh every time,” said Padam Agarwal.
“A small menu means a small inventory, which means freshness.”During my most recent visit, I sampled the karahi
murgh (chicken breast marinated in tomato, poppy
seed, and “chef’s spice mix”), bhindi masala (curried
okra) and lamb vindaloo (lamb cubes with potato); all
with naan (flat bread) and a pairing of Taj Mahal beer.The juicy chicken was packed with flavor, and I
mopped up the leftover curry with my naan because
it was so delicious. Usually, okra is slimy, which discourages me from eating it, but this masala was
inviting with a complexity of textures. The last dish,
lamb vindaloo, provided just the right amount of spice
to make me reach for my beer and wash everything down. I’ve tried other dishes during my other visits, and my
recommendation for your first visit is to bring a friend
and eat family style. Try the tandoori chicken that is
served on a sizzling skillet with caramelized onions
and vegetables, the chana dhal which is a stew of split peas and tomatoes in rich spices and the seekh
kabob dish: marinated minced-lamb served the same
way as the tandoori chicken. Always order naans, and
eat with your hands. Indian food is meant to be eaten
with the utensils you were given from birth.The highlight of Swaad is truly the service. My recent visit was for my parent’s anniversary, and I took my girlfriend to the restaurant for Valentine’s Day.Aside from holidays and special occasions, my family has patronized the food spot enough to be called regulars, but the neighborly staff makes newcomers feel at home and extremely welcome.
Every time I visit, I lose myself in the bliss of eating
fine Indian food. It’s a flurry of hand-to-mouth that you should definitely experience.
STO
RY &
PHO
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BYIM
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Imran is a former La Voz writer and cur-rently runs Llama Eats, a food review column at San Jose State’s Spartan Daily Newspaper. Follow Imran on Twitter @LlamaEats
Concept by Andrew Kaila. Photo by Arienna Jones, 20, Education Contributors: Ahran Cho, Communications / Adrian Discipulo, 22, Journalism / Kayla Grizzle, 23, Journalism
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ART AS A SECOND LANGUAGE/ Ian Lim, 21, Art / Laura Martin, English Instructor / Juliana Martinez, 19, Photography / Brittany McCoy, 25, Dental Hygiene / Alena Naiden, 25, Journalism / Ayam Nouiouat, 20, Public Health / Emily Penuen, 18, Business / Julie Pesano, English Instructor / Jasmin Re
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Concept by Andrew Kaila. Photo by Arienna Jones, 20, Education Contributors: Ahran Cho, Communications / Adrian Discipulo, 22, Journalism / Kayla Grizzle, 23, Journalism
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, 20, Painting / Catherine H
o, 21, Com
munications / Elena Jones, 18, Sociology / Kierra Jones, 18, Intercultural Studies / Kady Le, 20, Film
/ Van Le, 24, Business / Ian Lim, 21, Art / Laura Martin, English Instructor / Juliana Martinez, 19, Photography / Brittany McCoy, 25, Dental Hygiene / Alena Naiden, 25, Journalism / Ayam Nouiouat, 20, Public Health / Emily Penuen, 18, Business / Julie Pesano, English Instructor / Jasmin
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